


When Puck Fell

by TeddysHoney



Series: You and Me Plus Puckerman Spells Family [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Play, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddysHoney/pseuds/TeddysHoney
Summary: When Quinn breaks Noah's heart, Noah can't cope anymore. He slowly starts to lose control of his life, so the Hummels and the Anderson-Hummels take matters into their own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

It was somewhere between Finn's death and his breakup with Quinn, again, that Noah started to lose it. Finn's death changed him, made him more aware of his love for Quinn, for Beth, and for life. And after Quinn went back to school, even though it was hard, they were happy together. Noah would send her cute texts everyday, Quinn would call him for hours each evening, and they would see one another in the flesh almost once a month.  
The first time Quinn had to cancel a meet up, it was hard on Noah, but he understood. Finals were the next week, and she needed to study. It was her senior year. That was fine. Then, she got a summer job, and the phone calls basically stopped. Not all at once, but within the first month.   
That's when Noah started drinking. A cold one with dinner and something stronger to help him fall asleep at night, to relax after cleaning pools all day. Then, he added in one or two over his lunch break. Eventually, that turned into a stiff drink with breakfast, too. He still texted Quinn all the time, but she barely responded; most of the time when he called her, she ignored his calls. If she did answer, they talked for only a minute or two. At that point, Noah was barely functioning on his own; some days he didn't work at all. He was losing pools left and right.  
A change was set in motion the day he showed up at Burt and Carole's at 10am, yelling gibberish at the top of his lungs. He stumbled down their sidewalk, barely managing to stay on his feet.  
Carole came running out the front door, frantically wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Noah?”  
“Hi, Miss H,” Noah slurred as he pulled her into a hug, leaning heavily against her.  
“Noah, are you okay?” Carole asked. She could smell the booze on him as if it were leaking from his pores.  
“I'm grrrrrrreat. Nooooooot really. Quinn won't...And I lost anoooooother pool today. Only have one,” he said sticking his right index finger into the air in front of Carole's nose, swaying dangerously.  
“Oh, dear. That sounds awful,” Carole sympathized as she wrapped an arm around Noah's waist, leading him toward the house. “Why don't you come inside and sit a while so we can chat. We'll get you some water and a PB and J. Sound good?”   
“Suuuure thing, Miss H,” Noah replied lazily, leaning too hard on her for a moment, making her stumble.  
Carole led him to the living room, getting him settled on the couch. “You stay here, Noah. I'll be right back with the sandwich and some water.”  
As she turned to go, Noah said, “Yer the best, Miss H. Finn has the best mooooom.”He pointed at her with a heavy hand before letting it fall, hard, against his thighs.  
Though his referral to Finn in the present tense made her want to tear up, Carole threw Noah a half-hearted smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. I'll be right back,” she assured him again. Quickly, she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and threw together a sandwich, keeping her ears alert for any distressed sound that Noah might make.   
He was mysteriously quiet, and when she returned to the living room, she discovered why. Noah was fast asleep on the couch, head pillowed on the sofa's arm.  
Carole took the opportunity to really study him, then. He looked terrible, she decided with dismay. He had huge, dark bags beneath his eyes, at least a weeks worth of scruff on his dirty face, and his clothes looked and smelled like they hadn't been clean in at least that long. The sight of him nearly broke her heart. She remembered what a handsome boy he'd always been, eager to please and cute as a button.  
Carole had been looking out for him for a long time. Noah and Finn had been friends since preschool, and due to his dead-beat father, Noah's mother was always at work, trying to make ends meet. So, Carole looked after him as best she could. After he and Quinn had gotten back together, she'd thought he'd finally found someone who would love him like he deserved. Quinn had seemed like she really cared about him. Obviously, she had been wrong.  
Carole was not surprised at all that Noah had ended up at her house. She'd known about the “break up,” however unofficial it was, for a while now. She'd watched from afar as Noah's life had started to fall apart, feeling sorry that there was nothing she could do for him until he came to her. She couldn't force her help on him like she could when he was a child; he was legally an adult, and he'd been in the military. After seeing how quickly Noah was falling into an unhealthy state, though, Carole had worked with Burt, Blaine, and Kurt to come up with a plan for when his meltdown eventually became too much for him to handle alone. It was clear to Carole that they had reached that point now.  
Lovingly, Carole pulled Noah's shoes off his feet and threw a light blanket over his sleeping form. She set the plate and water bottle down on the coffee table for later, then went back to the kitchen. She picked up her cell from the counter and dialed. Burt picked up on the third ring.  
“It's happened,” Carole said, leaning against the counter and swiping the back of her free hand across her forehead.  
“Have you called the boys?” Burt asked, already signaling to his coworkers that that he was leaving.  
“Not yet,” Carole sighed. “I thought I should tell you first. Just so you could go get his stuff.” She took a shaky breath. “He looks awful, Burt.”  
“Don't worry, Carole. We've got it under control.” Burt wished he could be there to comfort her. He knew how much distress it caused her to see someone she cared about doing poorly. “I'm leaving work right now,” he told her, climbing into his truck and slamming the door shut. “I'll run by his place and pick up a few things. Call the boys. Let them know.”  
Carole was so thankful for Burt's calm demeanor. She swore the man rarely got his feathers ruffled, unless someone was threatening his kids. “Thank you, Burt,” Carole said softly, her voice betraying her emotions.  
“It's gonna be okay, Carole. We've got a plan. Noah's going to be just fine.”  
Carole smiled even though he couldn't see it. “Okay. I'll call Kurt and Blaine.”  
“Okay. I'll be home soon. I love you.”  
“Love you, too.” She clicked the end button and took a deep breath to calm herself. Burt said everything was going to be okay, and she believed him. She went back to her contacts list and selected Kurt's name from the list.

 

Kurt was just sitting down with a bowl of popcorn and his husband when his phone began to buzz on the coffee table in front of him.   
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Who is it?” His finger was poised to hit play on their favorite Netflix show.  
“It's Carole. I better take it.” Kurt swiped to answer the call, then put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Carole.” His brow furrowed as he listened to her talk. “Is he that bad? You talked to Dad? Okay. We'll catch the next flight out then. Yeah, if you could. Thanks, Carole. See you soon. You, too.”  
Blaine looked at him expectantly as Kurt hung up the phone.  
“It's time.”  
That's all Kurt had to say. Blaine had the TV off and was up off the couch in a second. Kurt laughed. “Hey, Blaine?”  
“Yeah?” Blaine poked his head around the doorway from their bedroom when he was in the process of pulling off his pajama shirt and putting on an undershirt. Kurt beckoned him back to the couch, and Blaine shuffled back, finishing pulling on his undershirt as he went. Blaine slumped down next to Kurt and leaned against him.  
Kurt whispered in Blaine's ear, “I just want to take a moment to relax with you. This is the last time it will truly just be us.”   
Blaine nodded. “I know. It's just, you told Carole we'd be on the next flight, and we've been preparing for this for a while now.”  
Kurt nodded. “You're right. Can I just have a minute, please?”  
“Sure.” Blaine burrowed further into Kurt, bringing one of Kurt's hands to his mouth and kissing each finger as well as his palm gently. “I love you,” he murmured.   
“Love you, too. Are you sure you're ready for this? We're ready for this?”  
“Yes.” Blaine shifted so he could meet Kurt's eyes. “We can do this for sure. You promised Finn that you'd look out for Noah. And this will be the best thing for him, Kurt. He needs this.”  
Kurt smiled, feeling a little better. “What would I do without you?”  
Blaine shrugged with a grin. “Who knows? I'm awesome.”  
Kurt chuckled and pulled Blaine into a deep kiss, both boys feeling the need to hold one another closely for a minute before pulling back, a bit breathless, lips barely swollen.  
“I'll buy plane tickets while you pack?” Blaine suggested.   
“Perfect.”  
Blaine came back to the bedroom a few minutes later. Kurt was deep in their closet, pulling things out to pack. “Our flight is at 12:15. We need to leave in about half an hour,” Blaine announced.  
Kurt poked his head out of the closet. “Kay. I'm almost done. Give me ten minutes.”  
“Alright. I'm going to go check and--”  
“Blaine, stay here,” Kurt commanded from the closet.  
“Why? I was jus--”   
“I need you,” Kurt called.  
“For what?”  
Kurt emerged and walked to Blaine, pressing his body against him as he kissed his lips urgently. “I need you,” he repeated in a husky tone, giving his hips a small roll against Blaine's.  
“Ohhhh. I'll stay right here then,” Blaine whispered, voice shaky as he felt his own arousal stirring in his stomach.  
Kurt kissed him again, biting Blaine's lower lip as he pulled away and walked to the closet, sashaying his hips as he went. “I'll be ready in just a minute.”


	2. Vomit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon waking, Puck feels sick, and he's just so tired.

When Noah woke again, a few hours after he arrived at Burt and Carole's, his head felt heavy, and his brain was sluggish as he tried to remember where he was and what he was doing there. As he blinked blearily at the ceiling, he became vaguely aware that there were murmuring voices somewhere in the house, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He painstakingly rolled his head to the left, and his eyes lit on the water and sandwich on the table.   
Carefully, in an effort not to jolt his pounding head too much, Noah sat up. He moaned loudly as the shift in gravity intensified the ache in his noggin. He reached for the water glass and drank deeply. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to drink that was alcohol free.  
Noah set the glass back down, mostly empty now, and picked up the sandwich, taking a tentative nibble. Peanut butter and grape jelly. His favorite. It was then that he realized he wasn't feeling well. He was going to vomit. Slowly, Noah sat down the sandwich, eyes darting around wildly for an appropriate place to throw up. He couldn't get up. He'd never make it to the bathroom in time. His head was still pounding, and he was starting to feel dizzy.  
“Noah?”  
Noah whipped his head around to look in the direction of the too loud voice, moaning as his head throbbed. Then, his hands flew to his mouth.   
“Noah!”   
The voice was coming at him, but it was already too late. He was vomiting on the carpet, right by the couch. Each heave of his stomach was sharp and everything hurt. Noah felt a warm hand on his neck and one on his back, soothing him through the last few tremors of his body. The voice was murmuring something to him, but his head was pounding too hard for him to understand the voice. Noah shook himself a bit, frustrated at his inability to focus on anything around him, and whimpered unhappily. He needed a drink; a drink would make the pounding go away.  
Two hands came into his bleary line of sight, then. One was holding a water glass, the other, two pills. Noah shook his head, a bad idea that made the throbbing worse. His tongue felt thick and his throat raw from vomiting, and he couldn't form any words. Instead, he tried to push himself up from the couch, rising on shaky legs, set on finding a drink. Burt and Carole surely had some beer their fridge or something. He took a tentative step, then another, but the blanket he'd been sleeping with tangled around his feet, and he fell. Noah's hand landed in something warm and wet, but he didn't know what it was. He wanted to move his hand, push himself up, but his limbs felt too heavy so he laid on the ground feeling helpless.  
From behind him came a gasp and a “Noah!”. Then, there were many hands about, helping him up, giving him water and pills and helping him to stand.  
Blearily, Noah took the pills and threw them into his mouth, reaching for the water to swallow them down with. He didn't know what they were, but if they were being offered, they would probably make him feel better. After that, strong arms lifted him, carrying him back to a bed.  
His head was still pounding and picking out voices was still hard, but as his eyes bean to focus, he realized that the hands that were helping him lay down and cover up under warm blankets were attached to arms and shoulders and bodies.  
He was so tired. He could sleep for hours, and he closed his eyes, grateful for some relief from the throbbing. He was so tired and trying to focus his eyes took a lot of effort. As his eyes drifted shut, however, he caught a glimpse of someone and they snapped open again. The faces. He'd seen those faces before, the faces of the people who were helping him. He just couldn't remember who they were.  
He blinked rapidly, forcing his eyes to focus again, and the faces slowly came back into view. One had brown hair, perfectly coiffed, with light, porcelain skin and dark, expressive, gray eyes. The other had hair that was gelled into place above a set of piercing blue eyes that complimented olive skin. His mind raced to think of who those faces belonged to. Could it be...Kurt and Blaine?  
“Go to sleep,” a voice whispered into his ear. “You'll feel better in a little while.”  
Noah let his eyes drift shut again. He was so tired, and going to sleep sounded like a good idea. Trying to think and look at the faces in front of him was too hard. He could do that later. Sleep was better. He was...just...sooooooo...tired. Noah yawned once, then was out like a light, the comfortable darkness of sleep surrounding him once again.


	3. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt worries if they're making the right decision and seeks support from Carole and Blaine before loading Noah into the Anderson-Hummel car and heading for home.

Kurt and Blaine left the bedroom, letting the door click shut softly behind them as they padded back down the hallway toward Burt and Carole. They found them in the living room, cleaning up the puddle Noah had just made.

“I was going to do that,” Kurt said softly.

“I know, honey, but don't worry about it. Soon enough, you'll be responsible for all the messes; you two will be taking care of him morning, noon, and night. Let Burt and me handle it for now. I don't mind.”

“Alright,” Kurt conceded, slipping his hand into Blaine's.

“You guys all set?” Burt asked, spraying carpet cleaner on the spot one last time.

“Mostly,” Blaine replied. “We brought all the supplies with us. We just need to go and get the rental car, then we can change him and go.” Blaine glanced back down the hallway as if talking about Noah would make him appear.

“Well, I can drive you to the rental place,” Burt said, getting off his knees and tying the plastic garbage sack closed. “I'll just grab my keys, and then I'll take you both over there.”

“Actually, I think I'd like to stay with Carole,” Kurt said. “I want to be here just in case he wakes up.” He glanced at Blaine, gauging his reaction.

Blaine nodded, and Burt burst out laughing. “Just like a parent already, aren't you?” he chuckled, clapping his son on the shoulder. 

Carole gave Kurt a gentle smile. “I think it's a good idea; the sooner you can start with him, the better. Being here in case he wakes up is a good start.”

Burt's face became a little more serious. “This is a good thing you guys are doing,” he said, coming to stand between Blaine and Kurt. Clasping his arms around their shoulders, he went on, “A little unconventional? Sure. But good. Good for Noah for sure. It gives him a chance to start over, to know that people really do care about him.”

Kurt gave his dad a smile and squeezed Blaine's hand. Hearing things like that made all the stress he felt about the situation seem worth it.

“Ready to get the car, Burt?” Blaine asked.

“Let's do it.” Burt headed toward the kitchen to grab his keys, Blaine on his heels. “Be back soon,” he called over his shoulder.

“Bye, Kurt,” Blaine said with a grin before disappearing into the kitchen behind Burt. 

Then, Kurt and Carole were alone. “Cup of tea, dear?” she asked him as they walked into the kitchen together. 

“That would, um, that would be great, actually,” Kurt stuttered, sliding into a chair at the counter. “I'm feeling pretty on edge right now. Maybe it will help to calm my nerves.”

Carole set the kettle on the stove top. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I'm not sure there's a lot to talk about. It's silly, anyway.”

“You know, it's good to talk about something that's troubling you,” she said, sitting down in her own chair. “And it's not silly.”

“Blaine and I have talked about this a lot. I shouldn't be feeling this anxious about it.”

“Second thoughts?”

“No. No! I know this is a good thing, especially for Noah, like Dad said. We're looking out for him like Finn asked us to, and I'm actually excited to see if we can help him. But, I'm afraid Noah won't feel like we're helping, and we might do more harm than good.”

Carole reached across the counter to take one of Kurt's hands. “That was not silly,” she told him earnestly. “Those are very real concerns, and, to tell you the truth, I've wondered them a few times myself.”

Kurt looked at her, surprised. “You have?”

Carole nodded just as the kettle on the stove began to sing. Wordlessly, she rose and prepared two cups of tea, setting one steaming mug in front of Kurt before sliding into her chair with the other. She didn't talk for a few minutes as she sipped at her tea, thinking. Finally, she said, “When Burt told me the two of you had approached him about this...age play thing, I wasn't sure what to think. It seemed weird and way too big of a mess to ever help Noah. But, when I saw how excited you and Blaine were, I guess my fears just melted away, mostly. I know it's what Finn would want; he'd want someone to look out for Noah and help him find his way again. He would be proud it was you.” She gave Kurt a teary smile. “Even if Noah doesn't understand it at first, it will be good for him.” She reached over and gave Kurt's arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispered, getting emotional himself. “It means a lot to me that you would say that.”

Carole didn't respond, instead sipping away at her tea again, lost in thought. Kurt did the same, mind spinning with the idea of what his life would be like when they came to visit Carole and his dad the next time. 

It had been pure luck, or so they thought at the time, when both he and Blaine had been offered full-time, work-from-home hours. They'd both readily accepted, loving the fact that they would be able to line up their schedules and maximize their time together. A few days later, they received the phone call from Carole, in tears, begging them to find a way to help Noah because he was hurting again. She'd explained the drinking and the missing work, and they had felt hopeless. How were they going to help Noah when he so clearly needed more than just a friend and AA? 

Quite by accident, they stumbled across an age play blog. They had been doing Google searches for a few days, trying to find a home therapy for victims of emotional abuse. Blaine was the one who clicked on the link to a blog entitled, “To Be Young Again.” It was the story of a girl who had had a rough childhood. When she reached adulthood, she had a hard time making friends, and, when she did make friends, they were the wrong sort of crowd. Eventually, she got so involved with drinking and drugs that she had pushed all of her friends away except one. That one friend was the man she now called “Daddy,” who had, against her will at the time, forced her into this lifestyle to prove to her that she was loved, that someone did care, and that she always had somewhere to go, even when she felt like she didn't. 

Her story hit home for Blaine and Kurt, and age play quickly became the topic of more and more discussions as they read about the best ways to get someone to regress, how to set rules and consequences, and who could benefit from this type of lifestyle.

Now, on the cusp of beginning the next phase of his life as Papa to Noah, Kurt was having a hard time remembering all the positives he'd read online. His mind was swimming with all the things that could go wrong, but Carole's words of encouragement had helped to push him in the right direction. A gentle hand on his arm pulled him from his thoughts.

“Blaine's back,” Carole said, rising and going toward the back door just as Blaine and Burt came up the sidewalk. 

“Are you ready?” Blaine asked, striding in and giving Kurt a quick peck. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, nodding his head toward the living room.

Blaine gave him a funny look. “Sure.” Following behind his husband, he waited until Kurt had taken them almost to the hallway before asking, “Is everything okay?”

“I—I'm just worried,” Kurt began, hands nervously twisting at the hem of his shirt. “Are we doing the right thing?”

“Kurt,” Blaine said. He grabbed Kurt's hands, stopping the constant twisting. When this got no reaction, he tried again, a bit sharper. “Kurt!”

He raised his eyes to Blaine's.

“Everything is going to be fine. This is going to be a good thing for Noah. He needs it.” He grabbed Kurt's hands. “You and I are going to do this, and it might be hard, but it's going to be a really good thing.”

Kurt nodded, removing his hands from Blaine's and throwing them, instead, around his husband's neck. “Thank you,” he whispered into his neck. “You always know what to say.”

Blaine squeezed him back until Kurt pulled away. “Ready?” he asked.

With a nod, Kurt headed down the hallway toward the bedroom they'd put Noah in earlier. Quietly, he opened the door, holding it just wide enough that he could slip through. Blaine followed closely. Producing a bag that Kurt hadn't really been aware that he had, Blaine handed it to him, and Kurt expertly slid the adult-sized onesie and diaper out of the bag.

They hadn't really planned on using diapers but had decided, after much deliberation, that they would need a few for the ride home. Taking a medicated, typically drunk man on a long car ride would be difficult all on its own. They didn't need the added difficulty of taking him to the bathroom at a rest stop. It would be much easier to change the diaper while he was asleep. And, if everything worked out the way they wanted it to, using a diaper, at least for the first little while, would make Noah's transition back to childhood that much easier. 

With Blaine's help, Kurt changed Noah out of his ratty, dirty clothes into a soft footed onesie and a diaper. Then, carefully, they carried him out the back door to the waiting rental car, getting him situated in the backseat.

Burt and Carole stood on the back step as the boys finished piling all of their things into the back of the car. When they had closed the trunk, they walked down the steps, wrapping Kurt and Blaine in a group hug. There were tears in Carole's eyes when she pulled back. “Thank you,” she said, looking into Kurt's then Blaine's eyes. “You're doing such a good thing for Noah.” Then she pulled them back into a hug again.

“We gotta let 'em go,” Burt said, wrapping his arms tightly around his wife. “They need to get Noah home.” He pulled gently on her waist until she let go of the boys. “Come here,” he told her.

Carole took a step back into Burt's embrace, leaning into him as Kurt and Blaine climbed into the car, smiling and blowing kisses in their direction. “Call me if you need anything,” Carole called. “We love you.”

“Love you, too!” Kurt called just before he closed the passenger door. 

Blaine buckled his seat belt then turned to look at their sleeping charge in the back seat. “You ready?” he asked Kurt with a smile.

“Ready,” Kurt said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Let's go home.”


End file.
